


Kings of the Castle

by Ladytalon



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 08:46:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3804169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladytalon/pseuds/Ladytalon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlyn and Doctor Light discover Green Arrow's new home, which will never be the same again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kings of the Castle

His prey is just walking out of a coffee shop, Grande Something Or Other in hand, when he decides it's time to pounce. The man stops to thumb the signal switch at the intersection, and Arthur begins to dissolve the shield of light that keeps him invisible. "Hello, Arthur," Merlyn says calmly.

He drops the shield and his sudden appearance – hanging upside down so that his eyes are level with Merlyn's – causes several cups of coffee to be either dropped or squished. "What gave me away this time?" Arthur demands irritably.

"Your aftershave. While you didn't take a bath in it – this time – the scent of it is rather distinctive."

"Distinctive? You're the one who gave it to me," Arthur reminds him, frowning. A gust of wind catches his cape and blows it against the back of his head, which makes him feel ridiculous. He twists sharply so that he's right-side up, and brings his legs up so that he’s sitting on air – Merlyn’s mouth twitches as he settles his hands on his knees in a classic mediation pose.

“Precisely my point. What are you doing here? You look like an idiot – come down here and stand like a normal person.”

“An idiot?” Arthur raises his eyebrows. “Takes one to know one.”

“Now _that_ was a singularly inspired turn of phrase,” the archer says, openly amused. “Dragged that one from the darkest corner of middle school, did you?”

Arthur grins and drops to the sidewalk. “I have something for you.” He takes his helmet off and tucks it beneath an arm, raking his free hand through his hair. “Guess what it is and you win a prize.” 

“You’re in a _very_ good mood,” Merlyn finally says, taking a sip of his coffee. “You haven’t murdered any Titans this early in the morning, have you?”

“Alas… earwax.”

Merlyn snorts. “You and your pop culture references.”

“You have to keep abreast of these things,” Arthur says seriously. “How can you expect to banter back and forth with the children sent to arrest you if you don’t know the appropriate quip to throw at them?”

The other man inclines his head, conceding the issue. “’Port us back to mine, and we’ll discuss this surprise of yours.”

Arthur reaches out to touch the nape of Merlyn’s neck, making him shiver before they teleport to the archer’s home. When they materialize in the living room, Arthur leans to brush his lips over the skin just below the other man’s ear. “I’ll give you a hint: it’s something you’d pay very good money to know.”

Merlyn lifts a hand to grasp his goatee, holding Arthur still while he turns his head to look him in the eye. “Is it something I _will_ have to pay to know?”

“Only if I’m allowed to choose the currency,” Arthur says, tilting his head and capturing Merlyn’s lower lip between his teeth. The assassin reaches out blindly to put his coffee cup down on the coaster that’s apparently ready and waiting (he probably put it there right as he was leaving) and hooks his fingers on Arthur’s belt. He pulls back slightly and licks at the corner of Merlyn’s mouth. “What would you say if I told you that I know where he’s moved?”

As expected, Merlyn’s eyes snap back open and he jerks away. “He. _He?_ ”

“ _He_.” Arthur tilts his head. “What’s it worth to you?”

The other man steps back, narrowing his eyes slightly. "The worth depends upon the accuracy of the information." Arthur extends his helmet towards his friend with a smile, watching Merlyn fish a pair of lacy black panties from it. "Are these….?"

"From beneath the bed in which Dinah sleeps with Ollie? Yes."

"Tell me you didn't smell them." Arthur lifts his shoulders in a shrug and Merlyn looks at him as if he's gone completely insane. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

"Too much to mention right at the moment," he replies cheerfully. "I want at least five hookers, dressed up as… let me see, I did Catholic schoolgirls _last_ time…"

Merlyn retrieves his coffee cup and sinks into a chair. "What on earth are you going to do with _five_ of them?"

"That's a rather personal question, wouldn't you say?" Arthur asks disapprovingly. “Now, I want them looking like cocktail waitresses but with animal ears on headbands. Differently hued rabbit ears don’t count.”

The other man shakes his head, dabbing at his lips after taking a sip of coffee. “Your depravity never ceases to amaze me, Light.”

“What are friends for?” He wanders over to the fancy display cases mounted on the wall, peering in at the tiny hand-painted figurines. “The bulb in this one is about to go bad; you should look into having it replaced,” he says, tapping a fingertip against the glass. Just to be irritating, he breathes on it and draws a smiley face in the condensation. Merlyn’s OCD spasm of outrage reaches his ears as a sudden scrape of denim against leather upholstery, and Arthur adds a pointed beard to his work of art before turning around to view the archer’s pained expression. 

Merlyn’s clearly trying to restrain himself from putting an arrow right between his eyes. “I’ll have it replaced,” he finally says. “I thank you for the tip.”

“You’re dying to ask me when we can start our home invasion,” Arthur grins. “You don’t want to admit it.” He receives a glare that a basilisk might well envy, and his smile widens. “Shall we?”

The other man rises to his feet, trying to look as if he’s been badgered into it. “I’ll need to change my clothing.”

Arthur trails behind him to watch, sitting on the edge of Merlyn’s bed. “That’s new,” he says, nodding towards a lamp that wasn’t there before. “Only forty watts?”

“The last one, as you might recall, was broken the last time you insisted upon testing the resilience of the mattress,” Merlyn says tartly, shucking his black jeans and matching button-down before reaching in his closet for his costume. “What have you been up to lately?”

Arthur flops onto his back, then rolls over and grabs a magazine from the bedside table as he fans his legs through the air. “Oh, you know. Rape, pillage…the usual.” He flips through the pages of _Archery Today!_ and pauses at an advertisement featuring the very man whose home they’re about to turn upside down. “Huh. Airbrushed.”

“I heard about you and Zatanna – you’re playing with fire, my friend.”

“Please. After what she did to me last week, she deserved it. Besides, you should have heard her scream when I flushed the toilet just as she stepped into her shower – it was priceless. She looked just like Wile E. Coyote trying to backpedal out through the shower curtain.” He tosses the magazine aside and sits up to provide a demonstration; Merlyn gives a snort of laughter despite himself. 

“Everyone knows you did it.”

“Ah, but can anyone _prove_ it?”

“Well.”

“I rest my case.” Arthur rolls back across the bed and reaches for the nightstand, opening the top drawer and peering inside. Merlyn clears his throat warningly as Arthur lifts up a pair of fur-lined handcuffs so he drops them back in and pulls out a strip of condoms instead, squinting at the back to make sure they're not past their expiration date. "Good God. How long have these been _in_ here?"

His friend finishes latching his belt and smoothing out the attached loincloth. "Not long."

"Uh huh," Arthur says skeptically. "They're practically antique. That either means you don't get laid often, or you go bareback. Damn good thing I always carry some on me."

"Where, beneath your helmet?"

"My belt, actually." Arthur taps the center diode as he gets to his feet. "I don't actually need the original circuitry anymore, so removing it cleared up some space… I'd thought about abandoning it altogether but it hangs low enough to guard the trabecular arteries. Of course, you wouldn't know what I'm talking about so I will explain it to you; getting smacked in the balls hurts like a mother, but if the arteries get damaged you might as well _be_ your mother. One well-placed hit that surgery can't correct, and you're a eunuch for life."

Merlyn rolls his eyes at Arthur's patronizing tone. "I'll keep that in mind."

"If you're finished primping, perhaps we can get on with it," he teases, drawing another glare from the archer. It would probably behoove him to be nice to Merlyn because the other man is a deadly assassin, but Arthur's always liked living dangerously. Flirting with death being the spice of life, and all that.

They teleport to a mansion that immediately makes Merlyn glower and mutter about privileged playboys. "How did you discover where he'd moved?"

"I followed him to the outside gate dressed as a UPS man," Arthur says, strolling over to look at the photographs covering one very large wall. "That outfit made my legs look fantastic, in case you're wondering."

"I'm not."

"Stop lying to yourself, Merlyn. It's really unattractive." 

The other man wanders around, stroking the backs of chairs and eyeballing every item he comes across. Arthur watches him for a while until he grows bored and digs through a drawer for a pen so he can draw eyeglasses and moustaches on all the photos. 

"The next time we're here, we can rearrange all the furniture," Merlyn suggests suddenly. "That'll _really_ drive him mad."

Arthur pauses in the act of uncapping the black felt-tip pen he’s found. “I like the way you think. Once he’s finished putting everything back, we can come back a _third_ time and bolt everything to the ceiling.”

“This is almost better than murder-for-hire,” Merlyn sighs, dropping onto the couch and putting his boots up on the coffee table. “Just think of the damage we could do if we quit committing crimes and turned to full-time harassment.”

“That would probably still be considered a crime,” Arthur’s obligated to point out. On the wall Mia receives an especially dapper moustache and after consideration, she’s given a monocle and sideburns to match. Black Canary gets devil horns and a cigarette, and the males of the Arrow clan each receive brassieres and top hats. Arthur finishes adding a penguin wearing sunglasses to a city council photo before he gets bored and flies back down to steal something from the fridge. “You were right,” he yells to Merlyn, who’s gone upstairs. “Everything in here is organic.”

He takes an apple from the crisper drawer, polishing it on a hip as he walks back out to the living room. Merlyn’s still upstairs doing something, so Arthur teleports up to see what his friend is up to; he finds him in the master bedroom looking as if he’s died and gone to heaven. The expression is cleared from his face the moment Merlyn realizes that Arthur’s seen it, but the memory of it makes Arthur smile and jerk his chin towards the bed. “What?” Merlyn asks, sounding a little breathless.

“His bed. Let’s fuck in it,” Arthur suggests, taking a bite of the apple. “I know you want to.”

“You don’t know the slightest thing about me,” Merlyn says, but it’s not convincing at all. “It’s nothing like… _that_.” 

He takes a step forward and Arthur takes another bite, reaching up with his free hand to unhook his cape. It slithers from his shoulders and down his back, and he moves it aside with his foot. “Of course it’s not,” Arthur says agreeably, “Yet surely you’d wish to leave your… _mark_.” He slides his thumb and forefinger into his belt and draws out a condom and a tiny packet of lubricant (You never knew when you might need it, after all).

Merlyn moves closer still, and the intensity of his gaze makes Arthur’s cock give an interested twitch. Oh, yes. He’ll want to mark his territory. 

The huge four-poster bed creaks slightly as they tumble onto it. “Don’t forget the-”

“I have it, just… _yes_ , there.”

“Move your elbow.”

When they’ve finally wrestled out of their clothing, Merlyn’s straddling him and fumbling with the lubricant. Arthur smiles, pleased that he’s managed to push the archer so that his control is nearly lost, and scoots back on his elbows until he reaches the pile of expensive-looking throw pillows. He reaches down to rub his middle finger over the tip of his cock, the light (ha) touch sending shivers of pleasure up his spine. 

He watches from beneath his lashes as Merlyn rolls a condom onto his own erect dick, and waits until the other man glances up at him before he does something he’s been practicing for days. Arthur creates a holographic illusion of Oliver Queen, throwing it onto his own skin like a striptease in reverse, and the expression of shock and raw lust on Merlyn’s face makes the long hours of practice eminently worthwhile. Because the trick won’t stay believable if he speaks aloud, Arthur simply crooks his finger at Merlyn with a come-hither smile.

The archer drops to hands and knees, slowly crawling towards him like a jungle cat. Arthur smiles again, pleased at the illusion’s effect upon his sometime-lover, and slides his hands up above his head in a gesture of surrender. “I hate you,” Merlyn hisses at him.

Arthur lets the illusion dissolve as he moves to slide his palms up the corded muscles in Merlyn’s arms. “No, you don’t.” He arches up and his thigh brushes against tangible proof of how much Merlyn doesn’t hate him. 

The illusion flows back over him and the assassin groans, his cock twitching in response. “No, I don’t.”

"Well, then." Arthur smiles, hooking a leg over Merlyn's hip and pulling him closer. "Fuck me."

Merlyn's eyes darken as he gazes down at him and when he begins to speak, Arthur knows it's not to him. "You think you're superior. You pretend that your wealth is abhorrent to you, when we both know you're nothing but a spoiled brat who doesn't deserve a penny of what you haven't earned," Merlyn hisses. "We'll see who's the superior one." He presses against the entrance of Arthur's body, and begins the slow push inside.

Arthur lets his head loll back against the pillows, grasping at the sheets as Merlyn's cock stretches him open. He's usually the one atop his partners, but sometimes it's nice to lay back and get a thorough fucking from someone who doesn't think anal sex begins and ends with a good set of kneepads. Merlyn doesn't stop his whispered catalogue of Green Arrow's faults until he's sheathed to the hilt and it's then that he looses his first moan of pleasure. He supposes he should be mildly offended at having to maintain the illusion of being Oliver Queen, but he's not. Arthur finds it fascinating to watch Merlyn's reaction to finally having 'Ollie' spread beneath him like a buffet.

The other man's mouth purses slightly, holding himself so still that Arthur can actually feel the man's heartbeat throbbing through the cock buried in his ass. For the moment, he's content to take the archer's weight as his body adjusts to the intrusion, but the moment passes and he starts to wriggle impatiently. Merlyn simply looks down at him with that intense look in his eyes, seemingly unwilling to oblige, so Arthur brings his hand around and cracks him across the ass with it. " _Move_ ," he complains.

"Impatient, are we?" The archer teases.

Arthur raises his legs and clamps his thighs around Merlyn’s ribs, bucking upwards instead of answering. He drops the illusion so they can actually get on with it – he’s all for the soulful ‘staring into each other eyes’ nonsense, but there’s a time and a place for that shit. Merlyn pouts only a little before obliging him by moving, and Arthur settles back to enjoy. He’s curious to see how long it will take the man to ask him to reinstate the optical image of Green Arrow, and just thinking about it makes him suddenly realize how amusing it would be if either Ollie or Dinah walked in on them. 

“What’s funny?” Merlyn asks, thrusting hard enough to make Arthur gasp and squirm.

“I was just – _ah!_ – thinking how it would be if…nnngh, _fuck_.” He arches his back as Merlyn’s cock nudges his sweet spot, and the warmth of his power activating spreads through his veins. “Shit, right there. _Oh…_ ”

“How what would be? You’re glowing, by the way.”

Arthur bites down on his lower lip, digging his fingertips into Merlyn's shoulders. "Just… _oooh_ …what Dinah would say if she came in here and found you riding me like Seabiscuit, wearing her husband's face." Merlyn laughs and leans down to close his teeth over the side of Arthur's neck, biting hard as he thrusts in deep. Just to be contrary, he layers the illusion of Black Canary over that of Green Arrow, 'padding' the necessary areas with hard light. 

He shifts back to Ollie when Merlyn grinds to a surprised halt, and wriggles encouragingly. The archer growls something at him and shoves his hips forward into several punishing thrusts that have Arthur arching back and clawing at the sheets. “Hate you…damned hypocrite… I’ll show _you_ who…” Merlyn’s furious whispers grow more disjointed as he speeds his pace, until his face contorts with pleasure and he comes with a final snarl.

Despite being so well-used that he could orgasm from the memory of it alone, Arthur needs a little more help than an instant replay can provide. Merlyn sits back on his heels when he feels Arthur shift impatiently, and reaches down to wrap his fist around the aching cock trapped between their bodies. “Let me see _you_ ,” the archer demands, and it’s a relief to simply drop the illusion and concentrate on his own pleasure. Merlyn works him expertly – how not, when they’ve done this more times than either of them can count? – and Arthur’s whole body glows as he’s stroked to orgasm, spilling in the tight circle of the other man’s fingers.

When he regains his breath, Arthur looks up at Merlyn and smiles slowly. “Mmm.”

“Yes.”

Merlyn pulls from his body, discarding the condom in the bedside trashcan before Arthur can suggest tucking it beneath a pillow, and stretches out next to him. Long fingers stroke his jaw and toy with his goatee, pulling gently. "Oh, go on," Arthur sighs and Merlyn cuddles up to him immediately. He loops an arm around the archer's shoulders, plucking at the sorry-looking twin spikes of the other man's hair. "That pomade isn't worth the money you pay for it."

"Hush," is the murmured reply.

"Don't fall asleep on me," Arthur warns. "I _will_ leave you here."

"You like cuddling just as much as I do, so shut your mouth or I'll tell Killer Frost you masturbate to her picture with a handful of ice cubes."

"I hate you."

"No, you don’t."


End file.
